With Dignity
by the Mirage Prismatic
Summary: War is not a singular experience. It is just not about the soldiers but the civilians who are caught in the crossfire, asked to be brave in the face of great adversity. A civilian on an Earth colony in the midst of evacuation finds herself in enemy territory.


Posted on April 17, 2014

_Last year or so, my brother and I were planning to watch movie playthroughs of the HALO games, lacking the means to play them ourselves. We have to yet to finish this task because of our current living arrangements but I started writing this sometime ago when I wondered about the civilians caught in the crossfire._

_A snapshot of the war._

* * *

"_There is only one god. And his name is Death. And there is only one thing we say to Death: "Not today." _George R.R. Martin

_the Earth Colony of Tellus_

* * *

"This is going to sting." Private Walker warned. He poised over the bleeding leg of the civilian woman, as if waiting for a beast to attack him. Serra nodded, clutching the sheets in anticipation of the pain and let out a long hiss as the medicine-soaked cloth stung at the open wound.

"You're doing well." he said as tears pricked her eyes. "We're going to get you out of here."

"People do not escape hell so easily."

The skies were choked with smoke, making the landscape around them seem gray and dark. Ash fell on the ground, covering the bodies of the fall of caved in roofs of wooden homes.

"You are the last of the evacuees. No others remain alive." Private Walker said, ignoring her grim words.

"None that you can find."

"According to the search team, there are no more traces of life." he assures her. "You are the last and we must leave." He took away the cloth and wrapped her leg tightly in long series of tan-colored bandages of cotton. "You'll be able to stand in no time," he slung her arm over his shoulder. "Let's go."

* * *

The Refugee Station was abuzz with activity; UNSC Defense Forces were engaged in combat with the Covenant on the other side of the mountain and this facility was the last to be extracted from the battle-torn region with the fewest refugees and the fewest number of children.

The evacuations had been hindered by enemy forces halting the advance of the UNSC Defense Forces and a few ships of civilians had been lost to attacks from Covenant.

"I hope they blast those bigots to sludge." Jareth grumbled, skulking in the shadows of the station. His skin nearly blended his form into the dark but he could see well enough, checking over the refugee supplies they'd been given; a signal bracer, a tactical vest, light but good hiking boots, a backpack in which all of their most important items were to be stored, weapons – combat knife, gun.

The town's stockpile of armaments had been rationed and handed out to the town's older members fourteen years old and up, those who had passed the basic level of the UNSC Defense Forces sharpshooting and knife-wielding efficiency tests.

"Take only what you need." had been said many times. "Anything else can be replaced." Basic clothes, a second set of shoes, a good weapon, hygiene products, flash light, the data slates etc.

"Me too." his sister agreed. She was fine now, thanks to Private Walker.

They been organized into smaller teams, usually by family, but quite a few of the children with their 'division' had been orphaned and needed to be looked after. Serra would be going with them. Her backpack was packed, her gun and her spare magazines were strapped to her thigh, her signal monitor was programmed to receive and control the frequencies of the children's signal bracers, the food bars were within in easy reach – in her vest of course with some large ones stuffed into the side pockets of her bag and her own signal bracer was around her wrist with five large dulled 'gems' – lights.

"I'm taking your bag right?"

"Yeah. Have to keep up with the kids so we can get to the extraction point. They'll give me a lighter bag with some provisions."

The refugee station was hidden but too close to Covenant dropping on the other side of the mountain. It wasn't safe to launch refugee ships from this area. This meant a risky but necessary trek several miles west to the extraction point. The people of their forest town had experience with traveling below ground in the natural tunnels or in the treetops where bridges had been built – there were times when the beasts who dwell there were none too friendly.

Besides, the recent battlefield was too close – one were a mass grave had been dug with each body wrapped individually and their enemies corpses left where they lay. When Covenant had landed and nearly killed the whole town.

Only a fourth of their town remained and those who had struggled in that battle with just as little training as the fallen and survived bore scars of the battle, Serra and Jareth included.

"Stronghold, we need you with the kids." A voice resounded in the Contalink wrapped around her ear and Serra nodded.

"On my way, Private Walker." she said and took a moment, to brush the wisps of semi-straight hair behind her ear. Her hair had the annoying tendency to fluff up and she tied the mass of hair that reached her shoulder blades back with a hair tie that was around her wrist. "That's my cue, little brother."

Jareth scowled; he was at least three inches taller than his older sister. "Tell Mom and Dad that you're leaving." he said, nodding to the couple across the wide station, talking to the other organizers

Serra waved to get their attention; they both blew kisses towards her which she mimed catching and they smiled. Her parents both gave her a nod before they returned their attention to the discussion. They weren't to use the contact channels for anything less than pure business. They needed to keep the links open.

"I said goodbye already. Those kids are more important right now."

"If only the Covenant were a skosh farther east..." Jareth grumbled.

"If only," Serra agreed. They touched fists firmly, grasping each others forearms and nodding firmly before Jareth pulled her into a tight hug.

"Stay safe."

"You too."

* * *

The sun began to set over their world, turning the grayed over skies into a darker black as night descended on the surface.

"We'll stop here for the night." Corporal Marcus said as they trekked into a well-hidden cave.

They numbered twenty in total – twelve children, five noncombatant adult caretakers, four marine escorts. There were four children per noncombatant adult with one adult assisting the marines with any minor tasks and keeping an eye on the signal monitors for the group.

"Dole out the rations." the Corporal continued. "Let's organize the watches – four watches, two persons per watch."

* * *

"Jackals!"

This cry prompted the entire party to abandon the rough path of the jungle and flee into the thicker foliage, holding the hands of children or carrying the smallest on their backs.

Maria and Devin hustled the kids under a camo-blanket and tree cover while the others drew weapons and ducked behind the foliage.

The four Marines dispatched as escorts took point, scanning the area.

Corporal L. Marcus held up her hand in a fist in a hold position as the foliage to the north rustled.

Serra waited with the others in tense silence, ears pricked for noise. The other marines looked into the tree tops, clearly confused.

A moment, later a raptor-like creature stepped out, chewing leaves and followed by several of its packmates.

The marines cursed under their breaths while the civilians turned to glare at Alamar – the man who had given the false call. He ducked his head sheepishly.

"You need to get your eyes checked." Serra bit out, snatching the eye-scope from him. "Holly, you take this. We don't need to be more panicked than we already are."

* * *

Serra and the Private First Class N. Walker took the last watch – the daybreak watch – and the single Griffin Ocular Scope that had been given for the noncombatant adults to share. Each of the marines had their own personal HUD monoscope to allow them better shooting and spotting capabilities.

Corporal Marcus and the two remaining marines sat between the watch post tucked into a shadowed nook outside of the cave and the noncombatants inside, back to back, guns up, half asleep. The sun was beginning to slowly peek over the horizon.

"Do you know how to reload quickly?" Private Walker asked, watching the forest for movement beyond those of the native wildlife.

Serra nodded, demonstrating by swapping out magazines.

"Good."

They weren't prone to conversation, each stewing in their thoughts.

Serra took the watch time to check her equipment. The amount of time they had had to prepare for this attack was rare or maybe the colony leaders had simply been a little bit faster on the uptake?

The Griffin Ocular Scope or the GOS had several functions – telescopic lens up 2,000 meters, night vision, x-ray vision, infrared vision. It was an expensive and rare piece of equipment; one the science labs had used before the facility was burned to the ground by Covenant. It was only fitting it'd be used to save them after it had been recaptured from enemy hands along with a number of other tools.

She pushed the GOS back up on her forehead and checked her signal monitor. She was in charge of one of the three signal monitors which had been logged with the digital print of everyone's signal bracers. That was tucked safely into a zippered pocket on her cargo vest. It wasn't armor but it helped with supplies.

Her pistol was in its proper place – one of the Wolvenstrom Arsenal's better models retrieved from a storehouse. The noncombatant evacuation tactics were unusual, she had been told by the marines, but the Covenant seemed offended by their very existence with every intention of wiping the galaxy clean of their presence. This was no time to stick to the usual procedures and the Tellus Militia had seen to the armament and basic training of their civilian charges. And humanity was nothing if defiant to the end.

Mini-flashlight because even though the Griffin Ocular Scope came with headlights, she was sharing it. A hand mirror for looking behind them discreetly. Flares – for an emergency signal but that would alert _everyone _to one's presence and that didn't seem smart. A knife. A few snacks in her belt.

Checking her gear, Serra would scan the jungle every now and then, the Private humming under his breath. When she was done, Private Walker took advantage of it to take a look at his own equipment until a sound from the cave, prompted Serra to turn her head; Private Walker turned his head slightly to watch her out of the edge of his vision.

"Jerry," Serra said, spotting one of the toddlers rubbing his eyes as he walked towards them yawning. "You should be with the others."

"Baf'oom."

The Private frowned. "Take him, Serra. Stay close. Keep your contalink on."

It was true that they had covered a fair amount of ground today and but distance between them and the battleground over the mountains did them no comfort, not when that distance could be covered by Covenant craft in a short amount of time.

She nodded, checking that Jerry had his ever-present signal bracer and her own signal monitor and her pistol was clipped to her hip.

"Stay close, Jerry."

"Make sure your flares are in reach." Private Walker said. "They might save your life."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Serra let the toddler do his business in 'private', tucked behind a tree with the tracking monitor of his signal bracer activated. She could still see the cave from here but not Private Walker which she considered a good thing.

"Jerry, are you ready?"

Silence. She checked the monitor. The boy was wandering away but not too far; she set off in pursuit as her Contalink came to life.

_"Covenant Phantom en route! Get back!"_

"I can't! I have to get Jerry!"

Something crackled through her Contalink but she was no longer listening; she set off at a run, spotting the curious, wandering toddler through the trees. "Jerry! We have to go back!"

Jerry looked back at her in confusion. "Dere's som'thin' over dere! I wanna see!"

"We don't have time!" she made to grab for his arm; instead he took off at a run.

_"Serra, you're too close to their drop site." _Private Walker warned.

"Use your emergency monitor. Jerry is headed right for them."

Private Walker cursed. _"Get him – I'm en route."_

* * *

Serra almost stumbled into a clearing in her haste but heard non-human voices in time to duck in to the foliage, holding her breath.

After a few moments passed, reassuring her that she had not been spotted, she peered out again then remembered she still had the Griffin Ocular Scope. She mentally cursed and blessed her good luck – the group had lost their tool but at least it gave her an advantage.

Carefully she put it down over her eyes, activating the night vision and peered through the foliage: a small team of Grunts appeared to be guarding a Phantom – a dropship. This was bad.

What if they found the other refugees? Was there any way to lure them back to their ship and get them to leave?

One thing at a time. She refocused on the Grunts; they were also gathered around something on the ground and appeared to be poking it, speaking in their strange language. Zooming in, her breath hitched – Jerry. They were poking at Jerry curled up on the ground with his arms around his head. Evidently, they were confused.

They'd certainly seen humans before. Maybe this was their first encounter with a human child? Most likely.

She scanned the clearing for any other Covenant Troops and breathed a long sigh of relief; aside from the Grunts, the area was deserted.

Private Walker had said he was on his way but he may be trying to dodge the Covenant that had evidently landed in the jungle.

_Or he was killed_.

Serra checked the signal monitor; Private Walker's was active, broadcasting and moving towards her position with another signal, albeit wandering vaguely off course.

Dodging then.

Okay, step one: distract the Grunts. Step two: get Jerry.

Question, was how?

Her hand slid down her thigh to her gun; but what if a stray shot hit the toddler? She'd never forgive herself.

_They might save your life_.

The flares!

Serra snatched one off her toolbelt, punched it on the ground, set it off and threw it outside of the Grunts circle where the flashing, spluttering lights had them scattering in panic.

They weren't very smart.

But she wasn't wasting time congratulating herself; Serra took off, throwing another flare in their midst as Jerry looked in confusion and terror and squeaked as Serra scooped him up around the waist, ignoring his weight and shot to the cover of the jungle as if lives depend on it.

And it did.

Unfortunately, the Grunts had also gathered their wits by that time and started firing.

She dove, covering Jerry with her body when her signal bracer flashed blue.

She looked up, zooming the GOS with a tap to the side button and spotted Private Walker at a distance accompanied by Alamar.

There was a toddler being pressed into the dirt and … ten Grunts (?) at her back.

"Run." Serra said as she stood, shoving him in the direction of their fellow humans.

The boy was off like a shot; Serra pivoted on her foot with another flare in her hand and ran towards them, throwing the flare. Thinking it was a bomb, the Grunts scattered squealing in panick.

One of them screamed something, pointing at her; Serra ran for the opposite side of the dropship and plasma bolts sprayed where she had been.

She pulled her gun as she ran, firing off several shots in the vague direction of her opponents before being rewarded with at least two shrieks from different targets. At that moment she heard a movement from the trees and turned, ocular visor still on.

Elites were coming through the trees.

Her breath nearly choked her.

The dropship was open. There was a little nook right there, in the back, half-covered by crates.

She dove in, behind the crates, pulled it back a few precious inches and hunkered down. She held her breath. Her muscles were too tight. She let her breath out, forcing relaxation into her slim form.

Heavy footsteps. Slower footsteps.

A slow voice. Even in an unfamiliar language, the speaker sounded impatient. The Grunts talked over each other, their voices clamoring over each other.

After a moment there was a thud. Whines drowned out by a commanding voice. More footsteps. Closer footsteps; they were getting on the craft.

As the doors closed, she realized her grave error.

She'd panicked. All sense and logic had left her when she needed it the most.

She'd hidden in enemy territory instead of her own. Her signal bracer wouldn't matter.

She was going to die.

She scrambled for the signal monitor; her visor was still on. She carefully removed the back paneling and with her small knife began shredding the wires.

* * *

The universe was showing her mercy today, perhaps for her good deed risking her safety for Jerry's. That was the only explanation she had for the Covenant not touching the crates – an Elite had kicked a Grunt for sitting on them. She thanked that Elite mentally but stayed quiet as the dropship landed smoothly and the Covenant disembarked.

She had a moment of terror when an Elite hovered over the crates but another said something that made the Elite move away and off the ship. She supposed they would come back for the crates which meant it was time to move.

She waited a while before both speech and movement ceased and slowly she edged her way out of her hiding place and scanned the room, careful not to peek out anything more than a single eye.

There! A maintenance shaft. It was obvious from its odd placement at least three feet off the ground, small size and the fact a Grunt was just covering it up. Three other Covenant who were hastening to the exit, chattering. The Grunt caught up.

Serra spotted a different maintenance shaft and raced for it. No ID of any kind required; it slid open and she crawled as fast as she could as far away as she could to a nook where they weren't likely to look.

Death may be highly likely but she was not just going to curl up and die, not when there was still a chance, however slim.

Once down the first turn, she hit her signal bracer. Maybe just maybe, someone would rescue her. She wasn't hoping for it but if they did come maybe they'd stop to get her.

Now settled in the dim red light of the maintenance shaft, two left turns and a right turn, a left, and two more rights from the entrance she had slid into, Serra took a deep breath, hand clenched around the signal bracer in her wrist. The echoes of an alien language and heavy footsteps carried through the metal, reminding her of her dire position.

She was in a Covenant warship with no way to escape with only basic knowledge of human weaponry and no military ability. The signal bracer shone red - she'd sent out a signal but the yellow light indicating that it had been received hadn't lit up. If the yellow hadn't lit up, she wasn't expecting the green that meant help was coming to light up either.

Her signal bracer – a large chunk of unattractive green metal. Red meant the signal had been sent. Yellow meant the signal had been received. Green meant rescue was on its way. White meant that was rescue had arrived and it was time to move or go meet them. Blue meant there had been no transmitted signal but someone was coming anyway.

She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her legs as tears pricked her eyes. The dust she kept wiping out of her nose reassured her that these maintenance shafts hadn't been used in a while. She had hidden in a niche of some crates in the cruiser bay until the cruiser had lifted away from the soon-to-be-glassed planet and used the crates to reach the maintenance hatch three feet off the ground.

She was going to die.

Now, it all depended on whether that would be by starvation when she ran out of food bars or execution at the hands of Covenant.

She took a breath, then several more, closing her eyes against the dark and crossed her legs, letting her hands rest on her knees. Calm, calm...

Even so, she didn't regret it.

Calm, calm...she breathed, remembering what little physical training in the anxious months preceding the attack, she had received in the name of building stamina and endurance. She breathed into her diaphragm, tightening her core. As much as it might make her feel better to cry it would also create noise and make her head ache and that wouldn't be helpful.

She brushed her hand over the pistol - she had three spare magazines. The town's stockpile of armaments had been rationed and handed out to the town's older members fourteen years old and up, those who had passed the marine's sharpshooting efficiency tests and calmness under fire. People would had naturally restrained emotions were the ones who were mostly likely to past that last one.

At least the light brown color of her skin soaked up what little light was hitting her; hopefully their sight wasn't any better than an average human's but somehow it seemed too much to hope for. Though, she heard that the Jackals had the best sight and hearing in the Covenant – thus why they were employed as snipers. She fervently hoped none were on this ship.

Serra jerked awake abruptly, eyes offended by even the dim red lights of the maintenance shafts and for a second she was confused until she remembered.

She was on a Covenant ship. And that was the sound of gunfire.

Panicked voices echoed through the metal but it came out distorted by the echoes and even if she could understand their words, she wouldn't know what they were saying – she didn't speak Covenant nor did she have the military's translator devices.

Tentatively, hope began to peek through. Humans perhaps? Why else would the Covenant ships be sounding alarms and shooting in the corridor? Unless they were having a mutiny in which case, perhaps using the chaos as a cover and making her way to a Covenant escape pod was viable?

Stretching as best she could in the cramped space, Serra glanced down at her signal bracer and her heart nearly stopped in her shock.

The red and yellow lights were out but the green light was flashing.

Unable to stop a smile, Serra began to crawl.

After a few moments she stopped. The light was growing dimmer?

She tried going in the opposite direction and when it was dark again, she went back and tried another path. Then the green light began flashing and flashing and flashing.

Well, that was convenient.

It was not convenient.

The universe had abandoned her.

A shriek of protest slipped past her lips as the claws of the Elite, gripping the back of her shirt, dragged her clear of the maintenance shaft and depositing her roughly on the floor. She barely managed to land on her feet but the violent swing of the two-pronged energy blade danced before her eyes had her stumbling backwards.

Unbalanced, she tripped over her own feet and fell onto her bottom, fingers brushing her pistol. Now if only she could get it out fast enough.

The Elite loomed over her, forcing all her attention on him and away from the Grunts under his command (it was a 'him' right? Did they have genders like they did?) and the energy blade threatened again, nearly making her cross-eyed. He growled something in his own language but (despite her terror – she **was **going to die) she could only stare in confusion.

"A pest," he said in perfect English.

If she wasn't being threatened with death she would have been shocked.

"A spy? A bold one you are."

"I - I am not a spy."

"You are a human; therefore whatever you find you will tell to your kindred." he said. "But you are but a femelle...defending the young."

He saw?

"Unfortunately, we are enemies. Will you beg for your life?"

Slowly, she stood even though her entire body was shaking in terror. She let out a slow breath to steady herself. "I won't shame my species by dying on my knees, solider."

He swung his weapon around, bringing it to his shoulder and regarded her with thoughtful eyes. "Good."

She let her eyes fall closed.

A single tear traced down her cheek.

"Don't!"

Startled by the sound of a human voice – a voice without the harsh tone of English on an alien tongue – her eyes snapped open and she ducked underneath the Elite's swinging blade, sliding her entire body to the right as the plasma blade buzzed by where her head had been.

The Elite had no time to react; a guttural roar shook her eardrums as a spray of indigo erupted from his left eye.

She thudded back first against the wall as the Grunt nearest her went down in a spray of gun fire, his scream cut off as his body thudded to the floor and his life seeped away.

The Elite blocked the next few shots with his plasma blade and retreated down the corridor, taking cover in the frame of a doorway as Grunts furiously charged at the humans despite the odds being stacked against them.

Faintly she heard a door hiss open and then close.

No one paid attention to her; she pulled out her gun and stayed against the wall as bullets and plasma hissed on the air and screams rang out and blood sprayed as bodies fell.

A moment later there was blissful silence except for the hum of the Covenant's plasma weaponry and the faint 'drip drip' of blood as it splashed on the metal floor.

Serra blinked and breathed out a slow breath, sliding down the wall, still holding the gun between her tensed hands.

_The shattered houses of the city, skies heavy with smog, the sidewalks scattered with human and Covenant bodies._

No. No, no. This was not the time to have flashbacks.

"Miss?"

She shook away the memories, forcing herself to breath – this wasn't the time for a psychological breakdown – and looked up as a soldier in green power armor knelt down in front of her. She couldn't see his face – just the smooth orange glass of his visor. His armor was dark green over an undersuit of black – like the leaves of the forest – with white stripes on the shoulders and upper forearms and the number 117 on the right collarbone. He carried a rifle which he now laid across a knee.

"I want to you breathe." His voice was rough, calm, steady through the audio filters. It wasn't soothing or sympathetic; it held a touch of harsh command in the tone and that was okay. She latched on to it and calmed her breath, settling into a meditative pattern.

_I almost died._

"Good. Have any injuries? Can you stand?"

Serra glanced around the corridor, unease filling her. "Where – " There were bodies on the floor and Grunts had fled but where was the Elite?

"He retreated. Focus on me." the solider ordered, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "Can you function?"

"No injuries. Yes…I think so." She put pressure on the balls of her feet before pushing herself upwards with her back muscles, feeling bones creak and pop. She stretched the fingers of one hand and the other, swapping the gun from hand to hand.

"I want you to count the team."

She turned her head slightly to look at the five marines with him in green-tinted combat dressed before rolling her head back to look at the Spartan. She was a little giddy. A Spartan – one of the legendary soldiers - had come to save her.

"Five. Seven, counting me and you. Sir."

"Good. You've done well but our primary objective is to blow the engine of this ship to provide safe passage for the refugee ships. There's a still a chance you might not get out of this alive."

They came for her because she was on the same ship and en route (she guessed). But she had expected that; she had assumed from the outset that she might not make it back to her brother and parents and there would only be the ghost of a chance.

She might die but that didn't mean she had to roll over especially since an alien warrior wasn't looming over her with a plasma blade.

She appreciated his honesty but her throat dried a little and she swallowed. But still...it was better than being a headless corpse on a floor or starved to death in a maintenance shaft. "I'd rather die with my people." Her voice shook a little and she _really didn't _want to die but better to die with fellow humans, right?

"So would I." he said, standing and extending a hand to help her to her feet. She accepted it, letting him tug to her feet with ease. His eyes flicked over to her belt and the signal monitor.

She handed it over and he nodded in approval upon seeing the shredded wires. Effortlessly he crushed it in his fist, turning it to unusable scrap beneath the notice of the Covenant. "Smart move." he said. "You're with us now. Call me Master Chief."


End file.
